


Irregular Side Effects

by modillian



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-22
Updated: 2009-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modillian/pseuds/modillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank gets pregnant. Jamia is just relieved it's not her, because swollen feet are a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irregular Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Write Crackfic I Haven't Already Written ChallengeMeme](http://modillian.livejournal.com/535808.html).

 

 

“Oh yuck. That’s the third time this week,” Frank said, wiping his mouth.

Gerard handed him a water bottle. “Dude. Are you like, allergic to something? Vegan food has peanuts and corn in it too. Maybe you’re, whatsitcalled, when you can’t eat wheat.”

“Don’t lie, how drunk were you this week, Iero?” Bob drawled.

“Fuck you! Ah. Urgh. Hold that thought,” and Frank ran back to the bathroom to practically hork up his tonsils.

“Damn, I hope he’s good for the show,” Gerard said through the door. Frank retched and muttered. Hm. Maybe he really was allergic to something.

***

“I’m WHAT?!” Frank yelled.

“Um,” said the doctor.

“No no no no, this is some badass mistake, right? Some lab tech shouldn’t have gone to work with a hangover, right? Right,” Frank said and went to Jamia on the bus.

She wasn’t sympathetic. “Yes! I can totally get out of being pregnant! Sweet. I was not looking forward to swollen feet, let me tell you.”

“You’re a frigid bitch.” Frank said, staring down at the third lab test result. Bright bold lettering read POSITIVE.

“Come here baby, and let me rub your belly. I’ve got jellybeans,” Jamia said, waving the bag enticingly.

***

MCR finished the last of the Black Parade Tour before Frank started showing. They read _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_. They read Dr. Spock. They read the weird new-agey stuff Gerard got them.

“How To Reach Your Inner Goddess?” Frank read off a particularly yellowed and patchouli-scented cover.

“It might help? Hey man, you must be awfully in touch with your feminine side to get pregnant. So did you figure out if you want a midwife or a doula?”

“They’re practically the same thing, asswipe, read your own goddamned pregnancy books,” Frank replied and chucked _Communing With Your Lovechild_ at Gerard’s head.

***

They worked with three doctors, a fleet of nurses, and made sure to go to a research hospital.

“Our baby is going to have the royal fucking treatment from the moment she hits air, motherfuckers!” Jamia yelled at the idiot receptionist, and they worked out a heftier payment plan for them. Frank wasn’t going to be a living experiment without compensation, dammit.

“It’s pretty punk rock, too. Breaking barriers and expectations,” he said. Jamia nodded along and still told him to shut the fuck up a lot. She also bought cheese doodles and pickles and rubbed his sore feet a lot.

Frank got a doula too. She was a grandmothery hippy with grey hair down to her ass and gave him awesome breathing exercises and long stories to calm him down. Also, she pissed off Gerard for fun.

“People have been giving birth for a millennium, and they’ll keep doing it for another millennium. You’re case isn’t strange at all in comparison,” she said.

Gerard’s face turned red. “Men are not traditionally made for it. Or made for asexual reproduction. Or made for sprouting full-grown people out of their heads.”

The doula tisked and waved her incense burners around. “It’s coming from Frank’s appended false uterus, not his head, so he’s got nothing to worry about. “ Gerard sputtered as Frank humphed and the doula rubbed apricot oil and cocoa butter on his expanding belly. “Besides, men having babies is all the rage nowadays with you young kids. Wasn’t it in the news last week that that trans man just got pregnant again?”

“Being transgendered is not the same!” Gerard yelled. The doula harrumphed and flicked oil at him.

“Trans, not trans, babies are all the same. Have you figured out a name yet?”

Frank changed the subject before Gerard started in on it. He was not going to name his baby something out of the Klingon dictionary no matter what Gerard said.

They scheduled the surgery for November.

***

“Dolly Parton Jr,” Mikey said.

“No. No and no. And not Dolly Jr. either, who would she be junior to? I don’t know anybody named Dolly. We’ll ignore my Auntie Doll.”

“Emma?” Bob suggested.

“Ugh, fucking _trendy_ , no.”

“I still like Peaches,” said Brian, sucking his straw thoughtfully. He’d brought milkshakes for all of them, and two for Frank.

“Man to man, I love you, but no. What is wrong with everybody’s brains?” Frank sighed. He eyed over the top of his rather alarmingly large belly. He wasn’t getting out of the house too much nowadays. His friends tried to keep him occupied instead. Jamia kept buying him more yarn, and Frank had finished at least a dozen knit booties.

“I still like Julia,” Jamia said.

“Julia? Julia, like we can call her Jules, like Jules Verne,” Gerard exclaimed, and chattered on for ten minutes.

Frank sighed. “I still like Frankette, though,” and everyone threw their straws at him.

***

He didn’t realize what it was at first. He just kept watching _Hot Fuzz_ and ignored it.

“Oh my god,” Frank said at the hot tightening pain in his back. It dawned on him all at once during the IcyHot commercial break. “Fucking, fucking BACK CONTRACTIONS. KILL ME NOW AND SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD, JAMIA!”

She helped him out of the house and into the car, and let him lean on her when the contractions made him woozy. It took an age to get there.

“We’re not there, actually, it’s just a traffic jam, don’t panic don’t panic,” Jamia chanted.

Frank took nice deep breaths from the diaphragm, just like the doula told him, then yelled from the diaphragm out the window and at the cars in front of them.

At that point Jamia zipped through the yellow-line-do-not-cross sidebanks and sped to the hospital.

***

“She’s precious, the most precious, look at you, look at you!” Jamia crooned and danced Julia around Frank’s bed. He smiled and wiggled his fingers tiredly at them both.

The doctors came in shortly. “Oh good, you’re waking up. You gave us quite a turn there for a moment, but with the help of our experienced team of surgeons you seem not to have done too badly.”

“Oh that’s good, it’s not like there was a life-threatening situation going on or anything,” Frank drawled. “And I’m not doped up that much, what do you mean, _experienced_ surgeons? Experienced with delivering man-babies?” Jamia stopped dancing. Julia whined.

“Well, yes, we wouldn’t say these circumstances are _common_ , but they have been known to happen from time to time. Usually with frequent travelers, and more likely with musicians for some reason, something about being in touch with their feminine side. We’ve got some waivers of disclosure for you to sign here, just procedure for this type of situation, you know...”

***

As it turned out, Frank _was_ allergic. He was told to stay away from the blooms of spawning squid off the coast of Australia for the rest of his natural life unless he wanted some more “irregular side effects”.

Gabe Saporta sent him flowers for the baby shower. The attached note read, “I had the same problem with red algae blooms off of Tasmania. Fucking Australia, man."


End file.
